The Unexpected Hunter
by Mk.Jones
Summary: A hunter, following a lead, goes to find an artifact only to lose it to the Winchester brothers. Even after deciding to let them have it, she ends up roped into their hunt. Her begrudgingness eventually whittles to companionship, but gradually and against her better judgement she starts to become enamored with the younger of the boys. T, but may become M later.
(Obviously I don't claim SPN nor The Hobbit who's chapter title I blatantly inspired the story title from.) ****

Chapter 1:

The loud rumble of an old car grew closer steadily harmonizing with the crunch of the gravel driveway. Inside the cabin that was no doubt listed as "cozy" I was frantically searching for a key. The cabin was pushed back against the tree line of the forest far enough from the main road so everyday traffic was barely audible. A dusty red, white, and blue real estate sign was propped against the wood porch in a hastily made pile of gravel. The sign boasted 1 bedroom and 1 bath, but that was a generous description, in my opinion. The front door (on the world's squeakiest hinges) opened to a dark hall with peeling wallpaper. In the hall, that was no more than twenty feet long, the bathroom could be seen without much effort. There was no door, instead, it sported a half curtain that did nothing to hide a toilet, and a shower, (but no sink). To the right of the entry, was a bedroom large enough to fit one twin bed, a dresser, and a night stand all of which had taken me approximately thirty minutes to search through and through. That was including a scan for any secret compartments (which there were none). To the left of the front door, through an arch was a living room. On the far wall of the living room was a stove top with two burners, a half fridge, and a counter with a sink. These, predictably, had nothing to offer me, but the smell from the unused fridge nearly caused me to gag. My only option left was an unusually tidy bookshelf. Unlike the rest of the cabin, which was coated in inches of dust, the bookshelf was only mildly dusty and all together out of place, but it only noticeable when I was standing right in front of it. I was searching the second shelf of five when the engine cut in front. I squashed my nervous energy by throwing more speed into reviewing the books. I pulled out a heavy volume with thick gilded block letters that read _Guerre et Paix_. It tilted in my hand and a gold cylinder dropped to the floor.

The front door swung open causing the hinges to scream in protest. Just beside the bookshelf that was meant for small storage, there lay a small doorless closet. Without a backdoor to escape through I took the chance to hide dropping to a crouch in the nook. I silently hoped it was the realtor briefly coming by to do a show. Civilians tend to be easy to handle, but other, more dark and devious things, took a bit more of my effort. I felt the hard press of the metal shaft of my gun at my back. It was a reassuring discomfort, like the familiar touch of an old friend. From my spot I could barely hear muffled masculine voices. The fragmented phrases I caught didn't seem to fit that of a realtor trying to make a sale. One of the voices disappeared into the bedroom. I leaned out carefully peeking around the edge of the bookcase to catch a glimpse of a tall man with shaggy brown hair enter the living room. On my retreat back into the closet, I noticed the hunk of metal that had rolled off the shelf. I looked down at where I clutched a book to my chest and realized I'd grabbed the wrong thing in my haste. I rolled my eyes and bit back an annoyed sigh. I sent up a rare prayer, asking that the man would be too oblivious to notice it and me. As per usual, luck was stubbornly against me. After his initial scan of the room the man immediately located the object. He stooped down to retrieve it.

"Dean…" He called out to his companion. As he began to stand I took initiative and dove from my hiding spot, "I think I found the ke-"

A grabbed the key from his outstretched hand and angled myself toward the door. A sharp tug of my upper arm spun me around again. I threw up my right forearm twisting my fist out to knock away his hold and with an open palm delivered a solid strike into his shoulder with my right hand. It was effective, but the man was quick and experienced. He threw out a dangerous punch. His size was greatly intimidating and promised a devastating result should he land a hit. I was pleased when I successfully dodged the blow on pure instinct and couldn't help the smile that sprang to my face fully relieved to not have my nose broken, a mistake that the man immediately capitalized on by grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back. Despite my efforts, my grip loosened and the key popped out. I leaned forward and kicked up and back. The force landed just below his stomach, plenty low enough to make him nervous causing him to instinctively release me. I threw out a punch which he deftly blocked and followed with a strike of his own. Annoyed, I dropped my elbow then struck outward. He leaned back dodging the blow and letting me fall by. I stumbled, turned, and my vision went black. The sharp pain in my jaw and solid ground at my back was an embarrassing testament to the punch I took to the face. I blinked, the view of the man bending down to pick up the key swam into my vision. I staggered to my feet, then kicked the back of his knee as hard as I could. They connected to the dirty floor with a satisfying crack. I followed through by swinging the _Guerre et Paix_ like a baseball bat across the back of his head. He lurched forward and I snatched up the key and sprinted toward the door. The door lay wide open and drifts of delicate white snowflakes were floating on the light evening breeze. A long arm shot in front of my view of freedom and my feet swung out from beneath me. My air rushed from lungs and I gaped like a deranged fish.

"Really, Sam?" The new man scoffed. "She's like 100 pounds."

He stepped over me and I noticed my eyes were still shut and that had fooled him into thinking I was going to stay down. I jumped up hoping if it worked once it would work again and stomped on the back of his knee. He stumbled forward, but didn't fall. I quickly retrieved my gun and pointed it at him as he turned toward me.

"Ah, ah!" I warned when he moved toward me.

"Give me the key." He demanded with his hand raised.

I raised the key near my ear and shook it mockingly. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins with every excited thump of my heart, perpetuating my cocky attitude.

"Cute... but I don't think so." I gestured with my gun to indicate I had the upper hand.

"Sweetheart, I don't want to hurt you, but I will."

I tilted my head with a sarcastic expression that accepted his words as sweet.

"Aw, thanks," I aimed and shot a round that whizzed right by his ear just half an inch closer than I intended. "But I don't think so." I pointedly aimed the gun at his chest while moving backward. When I cleared the door I smiled. "See ya, _sweetheart_."

I turned and abruptly the heel of my worn boot slipped on the step slick with ice. My heel bounced over three steps, then hit the solid ground. The force threw me forward and I flipped through the air landing flat on my back for the third time.

"Damn it, that was so uncool." I muttered after catching my breath and doing a quick mental check for broken bones.

"I'll say."

I opened my eyes to see the two men peering down at me. The shorter of the two, whom I had openly mocked with unabashed gusto, was crouched beside me. He removed the key from my clutched hand pausing only for a breath. Something in my eyes must have shown I wanted to fight back.

"Just… just don't." He said with a placating gesture.

My complaining joints agreed with him, so I relaxed giving up for the moment. Behind him the first man sighed giving me a disapproving stare. A gun dangled in his hand at his side, _my_ gun.

"Hey, that's mine!" I propped myself up by my elbows to express my indignation somewhat properly. He glanced down at it then pointed at my head. Undeterred, I jutted out my chin with defiance and scowled.

"Why were you after this?" He asked. When I didn't answer he cocked the gun.

Both men seemed to know I was weighing my options. When I tried to sit up, the second man pressed on my shoulder. I looked between them and huffed an irritated breath, much like a petulant child, blowing loose strands of my bangs into the air.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you. At least let me up, it's cold and this position is killing me."

"It might if you don't start taking." I wasn't sure which man said that, but it struck me as something a cop in an 80's action movie would say.

"Seriously?" I looked toward the taller man as well. "Seriously. That line."

The man readjusted his stance trying to keep his patience. The man still crouched by me seemed flustered now.

"What's wrong with that line?" He looked at his companion.

"It is a little… ya know." He replied apologetically.

"It's like a cheesy action movie phrase." I added helpfully.

"Hey, you shut up."

I raised my hands off the ground a little to show my complacency. At the shorter man's inquisitive stare the taller one shrugged to indicate I wasn't lying. That elicited a disbelieving scoff. He turned back to me.

"Can I get up... please?" I asked aiming for a more polite approach.

"No!" Apparently critiquing his comebacks was a faux pas. "You're a flight risk."

"True." I agreed easily. I had been calculating different escape routes the entire time. "But look at my options, it's two to one _and_ you have my gun."

They exchanged glances. The taller one shuffled on his feet looking unconvinced and reluctant.

"Alright, get up, but do not run." The shorter man pointed at me to emphasis his point.

I used my knees to stand up as I did I noticed the shorter man's car keys in his pocket. I faked pain in my ankle. It wasn't difficult as my body hurt all over. I lurched sideways crashing in the gravel.

"Damn it!" I cursed gripping my ankle.

"You okay?" The shorter man asked steadying me as I rose again.

"Yeah, I-" I gasped sharply leaning toward him and slipping the keys out of his pocket into my sleeve. "Just hurt my ankle a little." I crossed my arms in a show to keep warm.

"You're not a demon, so who are you?" The taller one demanded.

I seriously studied him, "You aren't either." I couldn't actually be sure of this, but I was hoping either way I would get information from him. It didn't work. His expression never wavered and the other man began to press me.

"So, what you're working for demons? They hired you?"

My head jerked toward him and my expression immediately twisted. "Oh hell no!"

The sun highlighted the last of the clouds over the treetops. The shadows clouded their faces with night. My pale skin and white cami were the last things catching the fading light. I figured in 5 minutes it would be dark enough I couldn't see them anymore. Running now would be a gamble, but I didn't think I could keep them talking much longer and they hadn't shot me yet, but the window on that was precarious. Even so, I was willing to take that as a good sign, a sign they weren't looking to kill me right out.

"So who are you and how do you know about the key?" The man demanded dropping his aim.

"Maybe we shouldn't discuss it here. Look there's another car's coming." That wasn't untrue. There were cars coming and going on the main road. They just weren't turning into the driveway.

Both heads turned and I bolted. My heels threw gravel up behind me. One of the men shouted after me, but I trusted my speed against theirs. I turned around the side of the cabin jumped on the parked motorcycle and revved the engine to life. Gravel pelted the wall as I spun the bike around. The white fence that sectioned the driveway from the front yard was broken laying on frosted grass. I nearly lost balance flying over the uneven terrain. Thankfully neither man took a shot.

The next morning was warmer than the day before, but only marginally. A pine tree laden with snow stood outside a cheap motel. Four crows cawed into the mid morning stopping only to drink the melting snow. I rolled out of a bed that felt like concrete and shuffled past the dresser with a stranger's car keys laying on top and into the bathroom. I'd just gotten ready for the day when a knock came at the door.

"Room service."

"No, thank you." I called back stuffing my dirty clothes into my only bag. Another knock came. I zipped the backpack closed. "I _said_ no thanks!"

Another knock. I sighed abandoning the bag and walked towards the doors as more knocks came. I swung open the door expecting to see the see a maid in a neat grey uniform. A newly familiar man stepped into the room. I awkwardly laughed through a grimace.

"Oh hey, it's you… how- how'd you find me here?" I bumped into the wall behind me.

His face was hard with a severe frown that showed he was completely unphased by my antics. I started to run into the room but he followed grabbing my arm. When I spun to throw him off he pushed me hard backwards where I crashed inelegantly against the bed. The springs bounced me up and I managed to catch myself before I could fall to the floor. I vainly kicked out at him and he dodged easily. I sat up to run when he pulled a gun out. I froze as I looked down the muzzle.

"Stop. Running." I could tell he was impatient and a little annoyed.

"Okay." I held up my hands. "Okay." I realized he was holding a different gun. "Hey! Where's _my_ gun?"

I was unreasonably offended that he would have the opportunity to use my gun and, instead, willing choose another.

His eyebrow raised and he replied evenly, "Where's our car keys?"

"Where's _the_ key?" I shot back.

There was a long appraising paused. I studied his stern expression waiting for him to give in first. His long brown hair was tucked behind his ears accentuating his facial features. His hazel eyes narrowed.

"The gun's in the car."

"The keys are in this room." He reached for the panel of my flannel overshirt and gripped it tightly pressing the gun into my chest. With a measure of complete control, that I would never admit surprised me as much as it probably did him, I managed to lean forward and reply seriously, "they're behind you on the dresser."

"You're lucky I was the one who found you." He muttered retrieving the keys without letting me out of his sight.

"Yeah, and where is your charming misogynistic partner anyways?"

"That's none of your concern."

"I didn't care anyways." This wasn't particularly true. I was worried he was going to come in at any moment, but it was true I didn't care where he was if it wasn't here.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I rolled my eyes as he clicked them around my wrists behind my back. He moved in front of the bed again and I crossed my legs beneath me.

"So," I struck a conversational tone. "Who are you or should I keep calling you Bad Guy #1 in my eventual memoir?"

He shot me a look barely pausing from his text. "We're not bad guys."

"Debatable. You do have me handcuffed." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. I smiled too, feeling successful in my attempt to lighten the mood. "Look, you got your keys and _the_ key. Why don't you just leave already?"

"We need to see what you know about the key."

"Well I can't say anything until I know who you are. I'm not just going to share this information with every dude who points a gun at me. What kind of person does that?"

"One who doesn't want to get shot."

He had a point.

"Look, let's start over." I was beginning to feel frustrated. "My name is Li."

I waited politely for him to introduce himself. He glanced at his unresponsive phone and sighed. He leaned on the dresser crossing his arms and studied me. Exasperated, I fell back on the bed crushing my arms. I placed my feet flat on the bed alleviating some pain.

"Sam…" he spoke at last.

I didn't bother moving. "Sam." It was such a normal name I hadn't expected it. " _Are_ you a demon?"

"No." He sounded slightly offended.

I raised my head to see his face over my knees. I cast a suspicious look his way and tested, "Christo…" He seemed slightly surprised, but didn't flinch. I let my head fall back on the bed. "No? Oh, well, at least there's that."

"Are you a hunter?"

I wavered. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah."

"What? No way." I blinked at the ceiling disbelievingly. I had been so convinced we weren't on the same side. Although, I gently reminded myself, just because he's a hunter doesn't mean we're on the same side. An old piece of information I'd stored away long ago resurfaced causing my face to blanche. "You're not… Sam Winchester, are you?"

His face tightened and I knew I hit the nail on the head.

"You've heard of me?"

"You and your brother, yes. Hell, every hunter knows you two." I smiled to myself. "You can't walk into a bar without hearing Winchester this or that. You two are quite the point of contention."

I glanced up at Sam who was grimacing with introspection. I didn't blame him if half of what I'd heard was true. I couldn't even remember how many apocalypses they had allegedly started and stopped. I sat up. He was as handsome as the rumors indicated. I could vividly recall one drunken hunter complaining about the most recent apocalyptic disaster. Between general anger and rudeness were backhanded compliments; pretty boys, freakin' huge, and damned fine hunters were the common phrases. So far, these descriptors seemed to be true, yet I hadn't heard anyone mention the hard lines etched in their face with years of this hard life nor did the hunters talk about just how human these two men were. After so many stories of them I'd pictured them closer to ethereal or godlike. Of course, I'd also picture the two men to look like an Irish version of the Brawny Lumberjack, so I'd miss the mark.

"Hey," my voice was softer than I intended. I looked toward the door to avoid eye contact. "I'll tell you what I know and you can keep the key…"

He half nodded toward me, "I already have the key."

"All I meant was, I wouldn't pursue it and that when you shoved my on the bed I may have accidentally knocked it out of your pocket. I think it's under the bed."

"How do I know this isn't a trick? Like I look under the bed and you book it?"

"Geez, you run away twice and all of a sudden that's what you're known for." I gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm still handcuffed." I turned to wiggle my fingers at him from under my butt. " _And_ I wouldn't mess with a Winchester. I'm not suicidal."

"Why are you suddenly willing to help us?"

"Because I'm not a masochist, despite the handcuffs. Whatever you two are involved in is probably mega bad stuff. I'm more than willing to let you handle it."

His phone began to vibrate in his hand. He pulled his lips into a humorless smile. He turned answering the phone with his brother's name. He kept glancing back at me throughout the call. I preoccupied myself by shamelessly eavesdropping even if I could only hear Sam's side.

"She's here - yeah, handcuffed on the bed - _Dean_! - she said she would tell us everything - just _get_ here…" he frowned at his phone.

"Just so you know I could've made a run for it at least twice now." I pouted to myself.

He barely acknowledged me sending another text. His fingers kept typing for a few minutes. He finally stopped and slipped the phone in his canvas jacket pocket. I tried to ignore the tingle of discomfort from my fingers to elbow. The next fifteen minutes ticked by slowly and in complete silence save the few spurts of vibrations that came from Sam's phone. The rumble of an engine caught my attention and I glimpsed a low black car pull in an open space just outside the hotel door. A slam of a heavy metal door followed by the clomp of biker boots preluded Dean's entry.

He entered the open door. Immediately he and Sam exchanged a glance. I had the distinct feeling that it only worked against me. They began to speak like I wasn't presently lying undignified and at their mercy.

"Did you find my keys?"

"Yeah, here." The keys jingled against a metal figurine as they were exchanged between parties. "Dean, she says she's a hunter…"

"And you believed her?"

"No, of course not." Sam quickly shot down. "But she knew us-"

"So, lots of people know us. Lots of demons." Dean interrupted to make a fair, if slightly rude, point.

"That's why I asked around." Sam showed Dean his phone. "And she tried to see if I was a demon."

"Okay, so she is a hunter." Dean agreed after searching the texts. "How'd she find out about the key?"

After Sam shrugged I rolled my eyes silently praying for patience.

"Guys, I'm right here. I can hear you and you can just ask me."

"Li, right? I'm surprised you haven't run off yet."

"Like I told Sam, I'm not interested in interfering with Winchester business. I'd rather cooperate and leave… _Alive_." He considered my words. "Will you please take off the cuffs or at least close the door? As fun as it would be if someone saw this scenario, it doesn't paint me in a pretty picture."

Dean shrugged agreeably and went to close the door.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten out of them yet." Sam remarked clicking the metal circles open.

"If I knew how, I would've done so." I admitted acidly. "I don't particularly enjoy being at a disadvantage."

I rubbed my wrists like actors do in movies for no particular reason other than to feel cool. When I stood up both men tensed. I smirked and bent down to retrieve the key. It was lying just beside the wooden leg of the bed. Upon close inspection I noticed runes etched into the side.

"Relax, I was just picking this up for you." I extended it toward the men so either of them could take it. Dean sent a disapproving glare toward his younger brother who sighed in response.

"So, you weren't lying about the key."

"No, but if you'll recall, I haven't lied to you at all. I try to make it a point of not lying at all."

"That's a weird thing to hold onto in this line of work." Dean commented.

I smiled self deprecatingly. "Yeah, tell me about it. But you know, I figure there's so many people lying out there it's hard to know who to trust and if I'm always lying how can I trust myself?" I added to lighten the mood, "Probably gets me into more trouble than not though."

Unamused Sam asked, "You said you would tell us about the key?"

"Yeah, alright. I was following up a lead and I found out an artifact had gone missing. I had reason to believe the witch I'm hunting has an interest in this. I managed to find the location with some luck and a little intimidation. I found the key when two men came galavanting in and managed to take it from me. I'd feel worse about it if it weren't the _freaking_ Winchesters."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "So let me get this straight. You found out about this on a hunt, you beat the crap out of Doug the demon who told you about the cabin, and you just went and got it?"

"Well yeah. I mean I figured it would at least piss her off if not spoil some plan she's got cooking." I explained feeling passingly apologetic to the Doug the demon who apparently had been the source of two separate interrogations.

"Who?"

"This witch I've been hunting. Nothing on the level of what you two do, mind you."

"Yeah, and how do you know about us?"

"Apparently, we're hunter circle famous…" Sam interjected.

I scoffed. "That's an understatement. There's quite a divide between hunters. You're either pro-Winchester or anti. It gets pretty heated sometimes."

"And what are you?" Dean asked.

I shrugged. "No one's ever asked. Hunters don't typically give me the time of day or care for my opinion. Those that do generally make their own assumptions. Plus, you know, I was border line assuming you two were fictional."

I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. I really didn't expect them to ask. They seemed like normal decent guys, but who really knows the Winchesters? Sam took the key from Dean and held it up. The brassy metal gleamed in the iridescent light. Four inches long, it had six walls two inches thick with engravings on each tile. The bottom was blank, but I remembered the top was covered in spiral writing.

"This seems more like a lock than a key." Dean said.

"Actually, it's more like a doorknob." I stood on my toes to peek at the top.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"Doug, mostly, and the house where this was stolen from originally had a little placard that loosely translates to, "Tool of the Door of Space". At least, that's what Doug said."

"What's that suppose to mean." Dean voiced the very words I'd asked Doug, before he passed out.

"I think it means this can open a portal." Sam replied still absorbed in the key. "See here, that's the rune for door, and this is space, and here, is infinity."

"Great, so it's a doorknob to outer space." Dean remarked dryly.

"No, that's too literal. This reads more like an instruction manual. Dean, I think it means we can open a door to anywhere."

A long moment passed and I rocked back on my heels hand stuffed in my back pockets. "Well, this was fun… good luck with that." I spun on my heel when Dean spoke.

"Actually, we're going to need you to do something."

I let reluctance wash over my face before I turned. A good part of me was suggesting I book it out the door. I was fairly sure they wouldn't shoot me. A bigger part of me wanted to stay and talk with them more. That part was the part that usually spoke up when something big was going to happen. I watched the floor spin under my toe. My decision to decline was made by the time my eyes lifted. Yet, for all my determination, I still wavered.

"Hey, I'm sure whatever it is you two can handle it." I noticed my backpack and couldn't believe I almost left it. I slung it over my shoulder. "You guys," I pointed at both of them with thumbs up as I slowly headed toward the doors backwards. "Got this, so I'm just gonna head out."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" A stomach dropped as Dean lifted up my bike's keys. A near giddy smile broke across his face and he shrugged clearly savoring the moment with utter delight. "You're not going anywhere."


End file.
